


you're the only motherfucker in the city who can handle me

by aces_low



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Angst and Humor, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Infidelity, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, New Year's Eve, Non-Explicit Sex, Non-Linear Narrative, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 00:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14437137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces_low/pseuds/aces_low
Summary: A new year means a fresh start. Ray and Nate have no idea how that works.





	you're the only motherfucker in the city who can handle me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on/inspired by (story completely stolen from) a Norweign short film called 'Nothing Ever Really Ends', thank you @bobert for making me watch it.
> 
>  
> 
> These characters are based on the HBO series, not meant to represent the real guys.

**2015**

Pale light filters into the bedroom through gaps in the old blinds. Ray groans as he wakes, turning to nuzzle his cold nose into Nate’s warm neck. Nate flinches against the change of temperature against his skin, waking from his light dozing. 

He lets Ray hide his face against him from the light streaming in for a few seconds before Nate shifts onto his back, stretching his arms upward into the air before letting them fall back down to his stomach. Ray’s head, dislodged due to the turning, is now shoved into the pillow below him, his eyes squeezed shut, avoiding the realities of the morning for as long as he possibly can.

 

The tile of the kitchen floor is freezing against Nate’s bare feet. He ignores it, mostly, shifting his weight every few seconds or so to spare each foot for a brief moment. Despite that, his focus is more on the apple he’s trying to finish and Ray, who he is watching through the opening between rooms. 

Ray is seated in the beaten up old chair in the corner, his guitar over his naked lap, as he strums out a song he’s been working on the past few days. 

The clock on the wall ticks past ten o’clock and Nate bites his lip.They don’t have time for this today, they have to get ready for tonight and Ray has to get a move on with packing. If Nate says anything about the time though, Ray will take it the wrong way. So, he stays quiet and finishes his apple.

 

The cold eventually gets to Ray enough that he stands, packs up his guitar, and moves to the thermostat to raise the temperature six degrees, before heading to the bedroom to put on some clothes.

Nate follows close behind, lowering the temperature three degrees.

 

“You’re taking the painting?”

Ray is crawling back through the window, pocketing his lighter as Nate picks up the painting of the two of them that had been a gift from one of Ray’s “fans”. She’d found a picture of them on Instagram, painted a recreation of it, and gave it to Ray after one of his shows. 

“Uh, yeah? I didn’t think you even liked it,” Ray says, taking the painting from Nate’s hands.

Nate frowns. “Just because I didn’t want to hang it in the bedroom doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t know,” Ray says with a shrug then holds it out for Nate to take. “You can keep it.”

They watch each other for a moment before Nate reaches out and takes the painting back. He gazes down at it then quirks an eyebrow up, his eyes shining with a look Ray is far too familiar with.

Ray narrows his eyes. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“It’s just terrible,” he says, not for the first time since Ray had brought the painting home with him. He drops the painting back into the box he’d taken it from, chuckling at Ray’s eye roll.

Ray takes a step back toward the window, opening it back up to reach for some snow that’s still packed on the ledge.

“Not in the apartment, Ray,” Nate tries, but Ray is already mid throw.

Nate ducks out of the room as the snowball bounces off the doorframe. Ray takes just a moment before he grabs some more snow and tip-toes his way toward the door Nate ran through.

He only has a second to react when Nate peeks his head through the doorway and hits Ray square in the chest with his own snowball.

 

People start arriving around seven. 

The living room has been decorated with a tiny disco ball hanging from the overhead light. It's plugged into a power strip that is hanging precariously between the ceiling and the outlet in the wall. The couch and entertainment system have been pushed to corners of the room, making way for various card tables and mismatched chairs, squeezed together to fit everyone. Ray’s boxes have been shoved into the bedroom.

Conversations overlap as everyone chatters on about their jobs and studies, about dating troubles and student loans and various attempts at diets and workout regimens, all with varying degrees of success. Dinner, almost exclusively made by Ray - other than the kale and tofu dish made by Rudy, who is also the only one eating it - is complimented over and over.

Nate finishes his drink before he hits his fork against his glass a couple times and stands.

“Oh god, are we old enough that we start giving speeches at dinner parties now?” Poke asks before he’s shushed by Gina.

Nate ignores him. “First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming to celebrate New Year’s Eve with us. I’d also like to thank Ray for making dinner. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch any of it.”

“We can tell,” Mike pipes up, grinning at Nate’s middle finger.

“Yeah, well, thank you, Ray,” Nate resumes, looking across the table to where Ray is downing his glass of wine.

Everyone follows in Nate’s thanks, adding their specific praises for certain dishes they’d enjoyed. Nate grabs the open bottle of wine that is sitting by him and pours the rest into his empty glass. 

Once they’ve quieted again, Nate continues. 

“Also, just so you all know, Ray and I have broken up,” he says, his tone even and matter-of-fact.

Some of their friends chuckle uncomfortably, others turn to look at Ray to see his reaction to that declaration. Ray takes another bite of his food.

“You’re joking,” Walt is the first to speak after the silence goes on too long.

Nate shakes his head. “I’m just telling you all so it’s not weird, okay? It’s not anything to be sad about. We’re both in total agreement.”

Ray nods before pouring himself a new glass.

Nate finally sits back down and finishes his glass in one go.

 

The awkwardness from Nate’s speech dissipates after several minutes and they all work together to take the food to the kitchen and move the tables out of the middle of the room and Ray turns on a mix he’d made for tonight.

Mike waits a few minutes before pulling Nate to the far corner of the room, a worried look on his face.

Nate sighs and takes a drink of his champagne. They have a ridiculous amount of champagne to ring in the New Year with. Everyone brought at least one bottle with them, and Nate had gone out a few days ago and bought enough that everyone could, theoretically, have their own.

“What happened?” Mike asks, keeping his voice as low as he can while still allowing Nate to hear him.

“Do you remember how I had to see that counselor a few months back?”

Mike nods.

“Well, he said that I have a tendency to take on a paternal role in my relationship and that I have a…’controlling personality’,” Nate says, putting air quotes around his words.

“Okay,” Mike says, drawing out the word, filling the silence as Nate takes another drink.

“I’ve been thinking about that lately.”

Nate doesn’t expound on that thought, doesn’t explain how he went from a few sessions with a school counselor to breaking up with his long-time boyfriend. 

So, Mike adds, “you told me you wanted to marry him.”

“I was probably drunk when I said that,” Nate replies, finishing his drink then wandering away to find some more.

 

Ray watches Nate out of the corner of his eye. He’s lost count of the number of drinks he’s seen Nate finish. Then again, Ray’s number isn’t insignificant either. 

Nate is talking animatedly to Brad and Walt, moving his arms around enough that some of his drink spills without him noticing. He gets this way when he’s drunk. Ray figures he's talking about Existentialism or Baruch Spinoza or some shit like that, based on the way Brad and Walt only seem to be half listening as Nate speaks.

He starts to smile before he remembers he’s not going to be seeing Nate like this much, if at all, anymore. 

To stay away from those thoughts, Ray starts looking around at his friends again. This is how he even notices Garza and Lilley sitting side by side on the couch having an inaudible argument. 

Garza gets up suddenly, apparently fed up with their conversation, and makes his way to the bedroom. Ray watches Lilley for a moment, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to follow his boyfriend. So, Ray decides to check and see what's going on.

Closing the door behind him, he asks, “you okay?”

Gabe looks up from where he’s seated on the bed and scowls.

“Thanks to Nate’s stupid speech, Jason decided it’d be best if we took a break too.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Ray says, dropping down beside him. 

Garza looks down at his hands, staring at them like they might hold the answer to this problem. Ray has been there, he knows that feeling well.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. You deserve a better boyfriend anyway, someone who’s more like you. Lilley’s a total bro, that’s not you. You’re-“

He’s cut off by Garza’s lips against his own. 

In the span of seconds, a litany of worries pass through his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, this is wrong. Though he’s not technically cheating, he’s not with Nate anymore, he can make out with anyone that wants to make out with him. But the truth is, kissing Gabe just feels wrong. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s his friend, or because he hasn’t kissed anyone other than Nate in going on seven years. 

That starts him thinking about what it’s going to be like to do this for real. To start dating new people, to sleep with people who don’t know every single inch of him already. 

His stomach twists and he kisses Garza back, if for no other reason than to shut his mind up, to stave off reality for a few more minutes.

Garza has Ray on his back, hovering over him, when the bedroom door opens.

They break apart and Ray looks up to see Nate’s ashen face for just a moment before he turns and walks back out of the room.

“Shit.” Ray pushes Gabe off of him and rolls off the bed.

He looks down to re-button his pants, then looks back up just in time to collide with the doorframe. 

 

“You sure you’re ok?” 

Ray waves Walt and Tim off with his free hand, the other holding the frozen bag of vegetables to his swollen eye. 

“I’m fine, I’ll tell people I got into a fight, it’ll give me street cred,” Ray says, forcing a grin he doesn’t feel.

Walt stands from where he’s been crouched over Ray’s chosen spot, sitting against the wall of the living room.

“Ok, call us if you need anything,” he says, and Tim nods in agreement. “Happy New Year.”

He hears Walt repeat himself a few seconds later, this time not to Ray.

“Happy New Year, guys,” Nate responds. “Thanks for coming.”

Once the door closes behind them, everything goes quiet. The apartment no longer filled with friends laughing and talking and singing along to music.

Ray sighs and closes his uncovered eye, continuing to force himself to keep the cold bag against his face for a few minutes longer.

The sound of the window opening makes him open his eye again to see Nate about to crawl out onto the fire escape.

Before he goes out, Nate turns around and their eyes meet. 

 

**2016**

Nate’s eyes are sore from lack of sleep. He’s been awake for hours. Only now that a hint of light is peeking through the curtain, does he finally open his eyes and sit up in bed.

He moves the curtain aside to see snow drifting down into a fair amount that’s already made its way to the ground. He sighs and scrubs at his too tired eyes before hefting himself out of bed.

“Help me up,” Ray groans from where he’s curled underneath the blankets, only his arm stretched out into the cold room.

Nate pulls on a shirt and walks out.

 

“You know, we’re having people over tonight,” Nate says, leaning against the entryway of the kitchen.

“Why do you think I’m making this fucking mini feast?” Ray doesn’t turn around from the pot he’s stirring.

“Are you planning on bathing at some point today?”

Ray sighs and moves to grab the grater, opening the drawer with more force than necessary.

When Ray doesn’t answer his question, Nate walks further into the room.

“When’s the last time you took a shower?”

“I dunno, when’s the last time you smiled?” Ray asks, finally turning to look at him.

Nate eyes are full of derision as his lips curl into an unnatural grin.

“Impressive,” Ray bites out. “Our friends will love seeing that.”

“I’m sure they’ll be too busy appreciating the fact that you still smell like the bar you played at three nights ago.”

Ray shrugs. “I guess showering every day lost its appeal when you stopped wanting to touch me.”

“Maybe if you showered more than once a week.”

“No, you lost interest long before that happened,” Ray says, shaking his head and turning back to the stove.

“Are you high?”

“No.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

Nate grabs Ray’s neck and pulls him into a deep kiss. He tries not to think about how long it’s been since he last did this.

When he pulls away, Ray’s eyes are unfocused and glassy as he looks up at Nate in wary confusion.

“Whiskey?” Nate asks, tasting the muted smokiness on his tongue.

Ray scowls and looks away. “It’s New Year’s.”

“It’s not even noon.”

With one last huff, Ray turns off the stove and slams the spoon in his hand onto the counter. 

“Where are you going?” Nate asks when Ray stomps past him.

“To take a nice, relaxing bath.”

“A bath?” Nate asks incredulously.

“Might even light some fucking candles and use some of those oils or salts or what-the-fuck-ever,” Ray exclaims before slamming the bathroom door behind him.

Nate doesn’t comment on the fact that they have none of those things.

 

The mirror is fogged over. Nate wipes away the condensation to stare at his nearly unrecognizable face.

He’s never been tan, but his skin, lately, has lost most of its color, taking on an almost sickly shade of pale. The purple bags under his dulled eyes make them seem sunken in. He looks lifeless. He starts to wonder if these last few weeks have all just been a dream, or maybe a hallucination created by his overly tired mind.

He smacks himself on the cheek. He doesn’t snap out of it. At least now he has some color on his face, and the continued stinging almost grounds him.

Ray doesn’t lift the washcloth he has draped over his eyes at the sound, doesn’t react at all to Nate’s presence.

He doesn’t tell Nate he can stay, but he doesn’t tell him he should leave either, so Nate sits down on the floor, leaning his back against the side of the tub.

“So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this. And I think if I don’t just do it I’ll spontaneously combust,” Nate says, after a few minutes of silence between them.

“Well that’s dramatic enough,” Ray deadpans, unmoved by Nate’s words.

Nate picks at a thread in the bathmat.

“Do you remember a little over a month ago, when I was working on that big presentation? And I was acting ‘psychotic’?” Nate asks.

Ray grimaces at the use of his past self's word. Admittedly, he hadn’t been particularly interested in or supportive of Nate and his stressful tendencies during that time.

“Yeah,” he says instead of any of that.

Nate pulls his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Do you remember me talking to you about that guy from the resources department helping me out with it? And how much time we spent together?”

“Yeah?” Ray only vaguely remembers that time. He'd been spending more time at the bar, playing a gig or not, in attempts to avoid the toxic energy Nate had been radiating. Now that he thinks about it, that energy hasn't fully cleared from their apartment since that time. 

"He didn't just help me with my presentation."

Nate picks at the skin around his fingernail, feeling the slamming rhythm of his heart against his ribcage. He sucks in shallow breaths, afraid he’ll choke on anything more.

The silence goes on for almost a full minute before Ray shifts, removing the washcloth from over his eyes, water sloshing back and forth against the edges.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Nate bites down hard on his lip like he’s hoping to break the skin.

He nods, and says, "yes," in a voice he isn’t sure Ray can even hear.

Ray stands, water spilling over the sides of the tub, soaking the back of Nate’s shirt and pants. Nate barely notices that though, curling further into himself as Ray quickly steps out of the tub and walks out of the bathroom.

Nate buries his head in his hands, feeling the knot that’s been growing in his stomach these past few weeks dissipate. It’s replaced now by a new, sharp ache in his chest.

When he feels like he can breathe again, he drains the tub and grabs a towel.

Ray is in the living room, still naked. Every movement he makes causes water droplets to hit the hardwood floors below him, as he paces back and forth. He’s holding his phone, hitting it against his chin over and over again.

He snatches the towel out of Nate’s hand as soon as he holds it out to him and wraps it around his waist.

“Are you two still fucking?” Ray asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer. Not sure if the answer even matters to him.

“No, I haven’t even talked to him again since.”

Ray nods and turns, doing two more loops before he stops, finds Rudy’s number, and hits call.

“Yeah, we’ve gotta cancel tonight,” Ray says into the phone. “Nate has head lice.”

Nate narrows his eyes.

“I know, I thought only kids got that anymore, but apparently, he’s been spending so much time with those classmates of his that someone gave it to him, now we have to put everything in bags.”

When Ray hangs up from the call he stares right at Nate, quirking his eyebrow.

Nate doesn’t move, just watches as Ray dials Stafford’s number.

“New Years here is cancelled, man,” Ray starts. “Nate is in one of his moods so he’s throwing one of his little bitch fits. None of you guys deserve having to deal with him when he’s like this, so we’re just gonna cancel.”

Nate doesn’t say anything as walks to the outlet where his phone is plugged in and dials Mike’s number.

“Hey, so the party is cancelled. Ray’s passed out drunk.”

He makes sure to look Ray straight in the eye when he adds, “at least we don’t have to get his stomach pumped this time.”

Ray is already dialing Walt’s number when Nate hangs up his call.

“Apparently, the university thinks he plagiarized his paper, I think he’s in real trouble with this. He’s locked himself in our room.”

Nate smirks, unable to deny Ray’s ability to hit him where he knows it will hurt, but Ray isn’t the only one who knows how this works. Ray smirks right back, throwing him a challenging look.

So, Nate dials Wright's number, feeling the cruel smile curl across his face.

“He’s been crying all afternoon. He asked me to be honest and I guess I couldn’t lie and keep telling him that he’s a good enough musician to ever be really successful.”

The challenging smirk is off Ray’s face now as he furiously dials Brad’s number, only looking away from Nate’s eyes to make sure he's calling the right person.

“Don’t come over tonight,” he says as soon as Brad answers his phone. “I broke up with Nate.”

Nate’s face is an unwavering mask, other than the slight twitch of his tightly shut jaw. 

“This time it’s for good,” Ray assures Brad, keeping his hard eyes on Nate.

No more calls are made once Ray hangs up. The twisted game is over. Nate couldn’t speak again if he wanted to.

 

The lights from the street cut through the dark apartment, creating jagged shadows across the furniture and walls, swallowing the real color of the fabrics and paints, coating everything in dark purples and grays. The only light on in the kitchen is the dim, yellow illumination above the stove.

The food Ray had made earlier, untouched except by him picking at it for the past few hours, has been scooped and poured and shoved into individual Tupperware and foil, now all waiting for him to put them away. 

He leans against the counter, looking outward into the rest of the apartment without taking any of it in, his mind a thousand miles away from the dark room around him. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing here, staring out at nothing, avoiding the living room, where Nate has been sitting for the better part of the evening. 

Eventually, he is able to shake himself out of his far away thoughts and put away most of the untouched food. The rest, he scoops onto a plate, and nukes it for a few minutes in the microwave.

Nate doesn’t look up from his concentrated stare at the dark television when Ray walks in and sets the plate on the coffee table in front of him.

“You haven’t eaten anything today, have you?” Ray asks rhetorically, sitting down on the chair next to the couch Nate is occupying.

Nate blinks and looks at the food for a second before leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“This is gonna have to stop.”

Ray watches him for a minute, but Nate doesn’t open his eyes or acknowledge that he’s said anything.

“Nate, look at me,” he says softly.

Nate opens his eyes, following his request.

“I can’t keep making sure you’re sleeping and eating all the time. You don’t want that either, do you? Having your ex call you up every day to make sure you’re taking care of yourself?”

Nate looks back at the off television, digging his blunt nails into the palm of his hands.

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats after a minute of silence.

“It’s not just today, you know it’s not.”

Ray keeps his eyes focused and sincere when Nate looks back at him, hoping Nate gets that he means every word. 

Nate holds Ray’s eyes for as long as he can before he has to look away, blinking away the sting.

“Fine.”

 

It’s bitter cold, but the snow stopped falling sometime around midnight. Ray watches the fireworks as he sucks on his second-to-last cigarette from a pack he’d only bought yesterday. He’s been cutting down. He marks today as an anomaly, he’ll go back to smoking less tomorrow. 

Ray enjoys the slight bit of warmth that hits his chest as he inhales, savoring the burn in his lungs for an extra second longer than normal. His hands don’t shake from the cold, they went numb ten minutes ago.

The fireworks finale ends and everything is silent in a way that only snow-covered streets can create. The glittering blanket muting out the rest of the world.

Ray appreciates the quiet for just a moment before he hears laughter and talking inside the apartment.

He moves down the stairs of the fire escape to look through the window. 

Inside, Nate is still on the couch, bundled up in a blanket. He has his laptop with him now, watching what looks to be their massive collection of home videos.

Ray keeps saying he’s going to edit them and turn them into something watchable. Currently, it’s just giant files of unedited, often uninteresting videos, as both of them have a tendency to press play on their camera in hopes that something noteworthy will happen. They have footage from everything, vacations, birthdays, Ray’s gigs, most of it is just of them walking or talking.

Ray watches as the screen changes from him sitting on the street, letting a stray cat slowly make its way over to him, to Nate in a museum, giving Ray an excited, impromptu history lesson. The videos play on and Ray feels a warmth in his chest, this time not caused by his cigarette, as he sees himself in a video, wearing a gorilla mask, about to wake Nate up.

The next video starts in the middle of a group of their friends singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. He’s not sure who is holding the camera, as both of them are on screen. As soon as the song is over Nate grabs his face and kisses him hard, prompting wolf whistles from the crowd. Their friends go ignored, as they keep kissing until the whistles turn to groans and crumpled up napkins are thrown at them, making them break apart in laughter before the video cuts out. 

Now, he’s watching just himself. On screen, he’s fast asleep with the camera above him, Nate clearly straddling his hips from the angle of the video. Nate’s fingers are carding through Ray’s hair before his thumb moves below Ray’s eye, gently pulling the skin down to reveal Ray’s eyeball. Ray feels his lips quirk as he watches his video-self wake up due to the weird sensation, looking around in confusion for a second before taking in Nate above him. His smile, in the video, couldn’t be wider.

 

His gaze travels away from the screen for a moment and he meets Nate’s eyes.

 

**2017**

Nate’s fingers are loosely curled around Ray’s, where he’s resting them against his pillow. He squeezes them as he wakes, causing Ray to shift closer. The rising, winter sun casts a soft, pink light through their curtains as Nate blinks his eyes open.

He lays there for several minutes, enjoying the calm before the lists in his head start reminding him of all the things he should be doing. As soon as he is out from under the warm covers, he grabs a sweatshirt of his that Ray had thrown to the end of the bed at some point last night. 

Ray sniffs and turns, curling into the warm side of the bed that Nate just vacated. 

“None of that,” Nate says, reaching over to smack Ray’s ass, or at least what he assumes is his ass from underneath the formless comforter. “We’ve got a big day today.”

 

Milk dribbles down Ray’s chin onto his lap as he takes another slurping spoonful of cereal. He doesn’t notice, more focused on swiping through pictures on his phone.

“Wait, what’s wrong with that one?” Nate asks from behind him, Ray didn't even notice him walk in.

Ray looks back at his phone to see what profile he was about to swipe away from. 

She’s pretty and blonde, her profile says she’s 5’4” and 31 years old.

“It says her favorite TV show is ‘any talk show’,” Ray informs him.

Nate grins and sits down next to him, leaning in to get a better look at Ray’s phone.

Ray has had to make two separate accounts on this dating site, one to look for guys and another to look for girls. All the ‘bisexual’ dating sites, he's found, are too focused on the sexual aspect of any relationship he might be looking for. He’d gone on a thirty-minute tirade when he'd first started looking, about how society believes bisexual people just want to fuck everyone. Nate sat and listened and kept himself from laughing the whole time. They’d both been proud of his restraint.

“What about her?” Nate asks before Ray can swipe away from another one.

This one has shiny, brown hair, and her smile shows off large teeth. 

“She’s a vegetarian who ‘loves the outdoors’,” Ray scoffs and rolls his eyes at Nate, swiping away before he can try to sell Ray on her.

Instead, Nate just snickers.

“You two would make cute babies though,” Nate says sincerely after a moment.

Ray snorts. “I’d make cute babies with anyone, but I am not emotionally or psychologically equipped to have children.”

Nate sends him a tight smile before standing up again. He moves around to hug Ray from behind, his chin resting on Ray’s shoulder and his arm coming up to wrap around his chest.

“Someday,” Nate says, squeezing him once before letting go and walking out of the kitchen again.

“Yeah…maybe.”

 

With the sun overhead, Ray is almost warm as he sits out on the fire escape and smokes. Though the biting wind and the cold seeping in through his jeans from the metal below keeps him from rolling up the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t think he can keep looking at profiles of people, at least not right now. It had been fun and interesting the first day. But he’s beginning to realize that he can’t picture himself with any of those people. He can’t visualize spending his life with any of them. And maybe he doesn’t want to.

 

Ray shares that thought with Nate later as he’s packing up the living room and Nate is setting up the tables and chairs.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re like this cell that keeps trying and failing to go through meiosis. It’s because we’re safe to each other,” Nate explains, covering the makeshift tables with a cloth.

“Is it meiosis or mitosis?” Ray asks, reading through an inscription on the inside of a book to determine if it’s his or Nate’s.

Nate stops and thinks for a moment before shaking his head, he’d never been great at biology. “This is why I dropped out of med school.”

Ray snorts and tosses the book in his box, before grabbing the next one.

“But seriously, it’s scary, because we’re this boring couple that’s become indistinguishable from each other.”

“I resent that,” Ray says, finally looking away from the books. “I am uniquely myself, no one could ever confuse you with me. And I'm definitely not boring.”

Nate grins. “No, you’re right, I guess I just mean…we’re not Nate and Ray, we’re NateandRay, ya know?”

“Plus, the sex is kind of boring,” Ray adds, putting a book back on the shelf.

“It is not,” Nate says indignantly, forgetting the table to walk over to Ray.

“It’s not bad,” Ray assures him. “We just don’t do anything different.”

“Like what?”

“Is this yours?” Ray asks, holding up a copy of The Stranger. 

Nate quirks his head to look at the book for a moment. “No, I got that for you a few years ago.”

Ray tosses the book into the box. “You’re not into choking."

“Yeah, shocking I don’t enjoy feeling like I’m dying or killing you for an orgasm.”

“I’ve never had sex in a pool because of your water phobia,” Ray continues.

“It’s a fear of drowning, not of water,” Nate corrects. “Since when have you gotten so into the idea of dying by asphyxiation to get off?”

“You wanted examples of how we don’t do anything different,” Ray says, shrugging as he tosses the gorilla mask that’s been sitting on top of the bookshelf into the box.

“You’re taking that?” Nate asks, pulling the mask back out.

“Mhm.” 

Ray goes back to looking through the library of books they’ve accumulated over the years, trying to decide which ones he wants to keep and which ones he knows Nate will be calling him about in a few months.

When Nate doesn’t keep talking, Ray looks up to see what’s finally caught his attention.

He almost laughs when he sees Nate, wearing the gorilla mask.

“Oh, I get it. You could have just told me that you’re a furry,” Ray jokes as Nate pulls Ray’s shirt up over his head.

He can tell Nate is on the verge of laughing himself, even behind the mask. Ray can always tell when Nate is laughing, or trying not to laugh.

Despite the mask, Ray knows that Nate can feel his growing erection before he moves to push Ray’s pants down around his knees. 

Ray follows his body’s natural response, lifting his chin up to kiss Nate, only to be reminded of the mask again.

“Take this fucking thing off,” Ray says as he pulls it off Nate himself.

“Now who isn’t into weird stuff,” Nate says with a smirk, but doesn’t let Ray get the last word in before he bends to capture his lips with a hard kiss.

Ray weighs the pros and cons of continuing the argument. Then, Nate’s hands rest against his lower back and squeeze, and he decides they can continue talking later.

 

It doesn’t take long for them to be naked on the floor, Nate’s hand encircling them in a tight embrace, while Ray sets the rhythm, seated on Nate’s lap and pulling him into uncoordinated brushes of lips on skin, barely qualifying as kisses after a point. 

Nate’s breathing is erratic after he comes and Ray hugs him tight, holding him close to his neck as he comes down. If Nate’s fingernails were longer, there would be indentations all along Ray’s skin.

 

After they’ve both caught their breath, Nate moves them up to the couch, unwilling to lay on the hardwood floor any longer than he has to.

“I think I got lucky with you,” Ray says after several minutes of spooning, Nate’s arms wrapped around him as Ray rubs his hand back and forth along Nate’s forearm.

“Thanks, I got lucky with you too,” Nate says, kissing the back of Ray’s neck.

Ray rolls his eyes. “No, I mean, I attracted you by some fluke, where you were into me because of my awesome intellect and sense of humor or something. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get someone interested long enough for them to care about all that. I’m not nineteen anymore.”

Nate squeezes Ray closer to his chest. 

“You know, the first thing I liked about you were your eyes.”

“What?”

“It’s true,” Nate assures him. “They were all dark and wide and I remember thinking that you could make me do just about anything if you wanted to use them against me.”

Ray grins and closes said eyes, burrowing further into Nate’s embrace.

After a few minutes of silence, Nate shifts. 

“Do you know what color mine are?”

Ray opens his eyes again, narrowing them at the far wall.

“You have to think about it?” Nate asks when Ray doesn’t say anything.

“Is this a test?”

Nate shrugs, keeping his arm over Ray’s chest.

“I guess so, but we were together for almost a decade. I’d think you’d know what color my eyes are.”

“They’re green.”

“Yeah, good guess,” Nate says, a slight laugh in his voice.

Ray sighs, contemplating how vulnerable he really wants to be right now. But, Nate has been vulnerable and supportive of him these last few days, so he decides he can do this for him.

“I like your eyes,” Ray starts. “But…that’s not really what I’m looking at when I look at them.”

“Ok?”

“Everything you’re thinking and feeling are just right there in them. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who can be so closed off while also being completely unable to hide anything. So, I guess I look to see when you’re happy or when you're sad or stressed out, or horny, or when you’re fucking with me. I look at them to see when you haven’t been sleeping or when you’re gonna withdraw again. I dunno, shit like that. When I look at your eyes I’m not trying to see what color they are, I’m just trying to see how you’re doing.”

Nate rests his forehead against the back of Ray’s head. 

“I like that answer,” Nate finally says after a while, pulling Ray back so that he’s flush with his chest. “Good job.”

Ray grins and holds onto Nate’s hand just a little tighter.

 

They’re brought back to the real world a few minutes later when the timer on the oven goes off.

Ray slides off the couch to turn the oven off and finish making dinner.

“I’m gonna shower,” Nate calls over to him.

“Yeah,” is Ray’s distracted reply.

He has only just gotten into the shower when Ray moves the curtain aside and steps in front of him. Nate quirks his eyebrow up but doesn’t say anything, knowing it will save some time for them to shower together.

Ray grabs the shampoo and maneuvers Nate in front of him so that he can reach Nate's hair without hitting him in the face. They’ve done this enough times that they know how it works.

When Ray is done, Nate does the same for him, watching Ray’s eyes close as he works his fingers through the longer hair at the top of his head. He resists the urge to kiss him, they’ve tried that before too. All it got them was Ray with soap in his eye and Nate complaining that he could still taste soap in his mouth a day later.

 

Nate is finishing setting up the living room, and Ray is putting the finishing touches on dinner, when the first guests arrive.

Soon, their small apartment is filled with most of their friends, squeezed in tight to fit.

 

“Uh oh,” Poke calls out when he sees Ray stand up from the table. “Don’t tell me Person is about to give a speech.”

“You’d be lucky to sit through one of my speeches,” Ray shoots back. “No, it’ll be short. Just wanted to say that Nate and I really appreciate you guys coming here every year.”

“Except for last year,” Christeson yells out. 

“Yeah, didn’t Nate have lice or something?” Stafford adds on.

Ray smirks and ignores the sharp pinch in his side delivered by Nate.

“Anyway, I know a couple of you have probably already heard or just heard a rumor.”

Mike and Brad look at each other from across the table to roll their eyes at their respective best friend’s antics.

“So, yeah, Nate and I aren’t together anymore,” Ray continues. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Poke exclaims.

Gina doesn’t reprimand him, as she’s too busy throwing her hands up in her own frustration and yelling out, “you’ve got to be kidding.”

“Listen, we really thought it through this time. We’ve become this single-celled organism…or something, I dunno, neither of us is sure on the science of this. But basically, what it boils down to is we just can’t fucking figure it out.”

Nate takes Ray’s hand that’s resting on the table and squeezes it underneath his own.

“We’re being mature about this, guys,” Ray yells over the booing that is now happening amongst their friends.

“No, you’re being teenagers about this,” Brad says.

“Yeah, they think they’re right back where they started when they first got together,” Walt adds. “Oh, are we in a time loop? Maybe we’ve gone back in time.”

Ray tries to yell over everyone, but they’re all booing again. Even Nate, the traitor, is just sitting there with his head on the table, trying to control his laughter.

 

There’s a new mix, made by Ray, that is playing as everyone talks and laughs and drinks their way through the rest of the year.

Ray is showing Pappy the artwork Stafford had made for his EP when his eyes are suddenly drawn to the other side of the room. 

Nate is there, not doing anything remarkable, just holding a beer and talking to Brad. 

It’s as though he can sense Ray’s eyes on him when he turns to look back across the room. Their eyes meet, neither able to look away for what feels like minutes. Nate smiles, and Ray isn’t sure if it’s a reflection of his own, or if he’d followed Nate’s lead on that. 

They don’t go over to each other, but throughout the night they can’t seem to help but find the other's eyes through the crowd, getting lost together.

 

**2015**

Nate holds his gaze for only a moment before he turns and makes his way through the window, onto the fire escape.

Ray sits against the wall for a few more seconds before hoisting himself up, dropping the cold bag of vegetables onto the coffee table as he passes it, and crawls through the window after him.

The fireworks boom overhead, reds, and whites and greens lighting up the cloudy night sky, crackling as they fall. They stand side by side on the small landing of the fire escape watching the display.

As the finale begins, Ray feels the warmth of the blanket that Nate has had wrapped around his shoulders envelop him, along with Nate’s arms.

The thrumming that’s been echoing in his head all night is suddenly silenced and he turns in Nate’s arms, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots through his eyebrow at the move.

“I’m sorry,” Ray says into Nate’s neck. “I don’t think I can do it, I don’t think I want to.”

Nate’s lips brush over the shell of Ray’s cold ear, moving to rest against his temple as he murmurs, “I know, me neither.”

 

**2016**

 

Their eyes stay locked for what feels like an eternity before Ray shakes himself out of his daze.

He steps back from the window, to lean against the railing. His cigarette has burned down far enough that he just stubs the rest out against the metal.

A moment later there is movement in the window and Nate crawls through, stepping out onto the landing, his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. 

There’s a vague sense of déjà vu as they stand and watch each other, until Ray takes the two steps it requires to reach out and wrap his arms around him.

Nate’s immediate relief is palpable as he hugs Ray back with a force that at any other moment would cause Ray to complain. But now, he just holds on tighter in Nate’s crushing grip as a mantra of “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” is spoken into the skin of his neck.

Ray pulls away after a minute, to kiss Nate softly and to say, “I know, me too.”

 

**2017**

Nate grabs one of the still full bottles of champagne before he makes his way through the window.

Ray blows the smoke out toward the street below, then grins as Nate fully finds his footing on the landing.

The annual fireworks show begins, but neither of them notices as their eyes stay locked on each other, just as they’ve been all night. 

Once his cigarette is out, Ray reaches for the bottle in Nate’s hand, breaking the spell between them. Nate steps forward, handing off the open bottle. 

He doesn’t speak as Ray takes a drink, just stands and watches and waits. As soon as Ray sets the bottle down on the step above his own, Nate moves in closer so he’s standing over Ray. He bends down, cupping his hands on either side of Ray’s neck, and rests their foreheads together.

“We’re never gonna be able to go through with it, are we?”

Ray lifts his chin to catch Nate in an off-centered kiss, grinning against his lips when Nate corrects it to kiss him deeper.

When they pull apart, Ray holds onto Nate’s wrist, keeping him close.

“Maybe next year,” he says, before tugging Nate back in again.

**Author's Note:**

> I went a little bit different with it (both in style and in substance), so I'd really appreciate thoughts on this experiment.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
